


these are the days of miracle and wonder

by celinamarniss



Series: Retirement [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Echo chamber fandom, Everyone lives, Gen, Happy AU, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holodramas, Small Towns, Weddings, making fun of mandalore, outsider pov, sad old man boba fett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-09 10:37:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13479741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celinamarniss/pseuds/celinamarniss
Summary: “See, this is what happens when you and Luke retire someplace out in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do, you end up taking in kids and going to war with the locals.”The Skywalker and Solo families gather on Waypoint for a Jaina's wedding. Small town hijinks ensue.





	these are the days of miracle and wonder

Omi’s pedal bike cut through the golden blades of kala grass as he followed the track through the fields toward Old Lady Gemma’s place. Of course, it wasn’t Old Lady Gemma’s place anymore, and hadn't been for a while, though most people in town still called it that. The Jedi lived there now, though most people in town still didn’t quite believe that they were Jedi. Omi knew better.

A glint caught the corner of his eye, as the red and silver oval body of the Jedi’s security droid sped over the grass toward him. “Hey, El-Two,” Omi called, not bothering to slow his pedal bike as the droid kept pace beside him. LA-SS2 trilled a welcome, bobbing in the air alongside for a few minutes. “Say hi to El-One for me!” The droid whistled an affirmative and then swooped away, headed back on its rounds across the property.

Omi skidded his bike to a stop in front of the house, and let the frame topple over onto the grass, where he let it lay. He untied a bundle from the back and then turned to stomp up the steps of the wide porch that wrapped around the house.

“Hey there, Omi,” Uncle Luke called. He and Aunt Mara sat with Uncle Han and Aunt Leia at the table on the left-hand side of the porch. A half-eaten platter of nuts and cheese was sat in the middle of the table, next to pitcher full of some sort of pinkish cocktail.

“Aunt Nadiya sent these,” Omi said, thrusting the bundle forward.

“Tell Nadiya thank you,” Aunt Mara said as she took the bundle and unwrapped alimplast around the sweetbreads Aunt Nadiya had baked that morning. “Before you leave, remind me to send back a box of risshi biscuits.”

“Okay,” Omi agreed.

“There’s hot tampias in the back,” Aunt Mara waved toward the house.

“ThankyouAuntMara,” Omi called as he bolted for the kitchen. He gave Artoo a friendly tap as he passed in him the foyer, the old droid warbling after him. The kitchen was in the back of the house, past the atrium garden, which was boxed in by the four sides of the building. The hot tampias were sitting in the warmer where Aunt Mara always left them for him, and Omi grabbed a plate and piled it high.

He wandered back out to the front porch and took a seat on the long sun-warmed steps that led down to the ground. It was the best place to sit and still listen to the grown-ups talk without attracting their attention. You could learn all sorts of interesting things, Omi knew, if you just listened to grown-ups talking to each other. Omi knew all sort of things about Jedi that no one else in town knew.

"...as a security measure—” Aunt Mara was saying as he dug into the tampias, the spicy filling bursting into his mouth as he bit into the crispy outer crust.

"I hope it doesn't seem like we're being too paranoid," Uncle Luke said.  

"Don't worry about it," Aunt Leia said, "Jaina's spoken to all the guests and everyone understands the situation here.”

“I thought the whole point of holding it out here was that no one can find the damn place,” Uncle Han said. “Not even the sludge news.”

“Still, can’t be too careful,” Aunt Leia said. “Mirta’s people approve of all the security measures. They even offered to send back-up.”

“They _would,”_ Uncle Han muttered.

“Han,” Aunt Leia said, “You can’t keep acting like Jaina’s marrying Mirta just to spite you.”

“I sometimes wonder,” Uncle Han grumbled, “If my life isn’t a bad joke.”

“It figures. It’s it a Skywalker thing—” Aunt Mara said, raising an eyebrow. “Picking the most inappropriate person in the galaxy to marry.”

“Hey,” Uncle Han protested. “What’s wrong with me? I’m the _normal_ one.”

“Please,” Aunt Mara said. “Leia is a princess.”

 _“Says_ the assassin.”

 _“High-level_ assassin,”Uncle Luke put in.  

“You were a _low-level_ contraband hauler,” Aunt Mara said, “A _spice-_ smuggler.”

“I never wanted to kill her!”

“No, you wanted her to _pay_ you,” Aunt Mara said, clicking her tongue.

“I never wanted to kill her!”

“Stop bickering, children,” Leia said, shaking off the condensation that had dripped off her glass and onto her hand. “Let’s all be thankful that we didn’t have another Hapan wedding.” There were groans from all of the grown-ups.

Omi had heard Aunt Mara and Uncle Luke mention about the Jacen’s wedding a couple of times. Omi had met Jacen and Tenel Ka and all the rest of them: Jaina, Anakin and Tahiri, and Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara’s son Ben.

The Hapan princess, Tenel Ka, was awesome in kind of a scary way. Jacen was okay as long as you didn’t mind hearing him go on and on about his zoo on Hapes. Once he’d shown Omi holos of the rancors he raised on Dathomir and Omi had to admit they were pretty neat. Ben came to visit the most, and he would sometimes take Omi in one of Luke’s speeders out to the Vasta Canyon to catch soli fish.

“Just you wait until Ben finally settles down,” Uncle Han said. _“You’ll_ see how it feels.”

“Ben’s a romantic like his father,” Aunt Mara said. “No one’s come along and threatened to kill him yet.”

Uncle Luke laughed.

“Anyway, there's no rush,” Aunt Mara said. “I'm not that eager to become a grandmother.”

 _“I’m_ eager,” Uncle Luke said.

“It’s fun,” Aunt Leia said. “Did you see the holos Jacen sent of Allana yesterday?”

Omi was beginning to get impatient. When were they going to talk about something _interesting?_ Babies were _not_ interesting.

He stretched out across the top step, propping his head on his hands. A yellow skink slunk around the corner of the house and skittered across the porch, and he watched as it turned its head toward him and blinked its golden eyes as it basked in the afternoon sun.

He didn’t realize that he’d fallen asleep until Uncle Luke shook his shoulder. The sun was getting low and on the horizon the clouds were heaps of light blue and confectionary pink. Aunt Leia and Aunt Mara were still talking quietly together at the table, but Uncle Han had gone inside. Omi thought he could hear the rumble of Chewbacca’s voice inside the house.

“It’s getting late, Omi,” Uncle Luke said. “Let me drive you home.”

Omi helped Uncle Luke put his pedal bike in the back of a speeder and then hopped in the front seat. He put the box of risshi cakes Aunt Mara had given him on his lap.

“Why isn’t Uncle Han happy about Jaina marrying Mirta Gev?” he asked as Luke drove him home.

“Han doesn’t have any problem with Mirta,” Uncle Luke explained. “But her grandfather is coming to the wedding and he doesn’t like her grandfather very much.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” Luke said. “Mirta’s grandfather used to be a bounty hunter, and during the war he turned Han in for a bounty.”

“You never told me that story before.” Omi gave Uncle Luke a reproachful look.

Luke laughed. “You won’t find that story in your history holos, either. Have they done the unit on the Clone Wars yet?”

“No,” Omi said. He’d seen a few holodramas set during the Clone Wars, though.

“Ah,” Luke said. He was quiet a moment, and Omi waited as he collected his thoughts. “This was back during the Galactic Civil War…” He told Omi the story of how Mirta’s grandfather had tracked Uncle Han and Aunt Leia across the stars and turned Uncle Han over to the crime lord Jabba the Hutt.

“Leia rescued him,” Luke assured him. “But that story will have to wait for another time.”

He pulled up to Omi’s house and waved at Omi’s mother, who peered out the window of the house as Omi left the speeder and waved back at Uncle Luke.

“Did Mara send risshi cakes?” Omi’s mom asked as he handed her the package.

“Yeah, but you have to save some for Aunt Nadiya too.”

“That’s very generous of them,” his mom said. “I hope you thanked them.” She unwrapped the risshi cakes and laid them out of the table. “Did anything exciting happen today?”

“Not really,” Omi said. The things that Uncle Luke had told him about Boba Fett had been interesting, but he knew there had to be more to the story. “Maybe tomorrow.”

\- -

“Jaina’s marrying a Mandalorian?” Kiki gasped.

“Yeah,” Omi said as he lifted a box onto the back of the speeder truck. “That’s what Uncle Luke said. Her name’s Mirta Gev. I thought you already knew.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell us she was Mandalorian!” Mika passed him the next box.

The handwritten label on the outside of the box indicated it was filled with baking supplies for the feast Aunt Nadiya was helping prepare for Jaina’s wedding. Omi hoisted it onto the back of the truck.

“Did you know that on Mandalore they train you to fight as soon as you turn four?” Mika continued. “If they think a kid is getting too weak, they’ll make them face off with another kid _to the death.”_

“Did you call the flower shop again?” They heard Aunt Nadiya call out to Aunt Shae from inside the shop. “They didn’t respond my comm.”

“Mandalorians would rather die than be defeated,” Kiki said as carried another box over. “So every Mandalorian has a self-destruct trigger implanted in their bodies.”

“Really?” Omi asked. “Where?”

“Usually in their teeth, so that they can trigger it even if they’re tied up. I think you get it implanted when you’re twelve.”

“No answer,” Aunt Shae called back.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Omi asked.

Mika scoffed. “Doesn’t your mom ever let you watch any holos? Every good holodrama has a Mandalorian character in it.”

“The best one’s _The Truest Star,”_ Kiki said. _“Everyone_ cries when the Mandalorian princess Sabina has to fight her lover Ezri in a death match.”

Aunt Shae stepped out of the shop. “You kids get everything loaded?” she asked as she wrapped a scarf around her pale green lekku to protect them from the sun.

“Nearly done, Auntie Shae!” Mika sang. She wedged the last box into the truck’s bed, in between two larger boxes.  

“Who's going to help me unload on the other end?”

“Not me!” Kiki and Mika said at exactly the same time.

“We’re going to help Auntie Nadiya,” Kiki explained.

“Omi?”

“Okay, Auntie Shae.”

Omi sighed dramatically as followed her to the front of the truck and climbed into the passenger’s seat, but secretly he didn't mind. Jaina and Mirta were arriving that afternoon and he wanted to see the Mandalorians in person. It had been a few days since he’d been up to the Skywalker house, and in that time, guests from all over the galaxy had begun to arrive for the wedding celebrations.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay and hang out with Mika and Kiki?” Aunt Shae asked as she slid into the driver’s seat. “Kids your own age? It must be boring hanging out with all us old people.”

“I dunno,” Omi said. “I learn stuff that way.”

There was also always the chance that one of the Jedi would use their powers, and Omi didn’t want to miss that. There would be a lot of Jedi at the wedding.

The drive from Aunt Shae and Aunt Nadiya’s shop to the Skywalker property took a while, and Omi leaned his head out of the speeder’s window as Shae drove, the wind whipping his hair around as he counted the birds hanging in the air above the fields of kala grass. In the distance, El-One flashed a blue welcome signal as they crossed the line into the Skywalker property.

Aunt Shae pulled the speeder into a wide curve around the house and wove slowly through the trees that surrounded the building, passing a row of rented speeders parked alongside Uncle Luke’s garage.

Aunt Shae whistled. “A Rissant Lightning Racer. Now that’s a _speeder.”_

There were lots of people visiting from Outside, most of them staying in the guest wing of the Skywalker house. Jacen and Anakin came out of the back door of the house to meet them as Aunt Shae and Omi climbed out of the speeder truck.

“Hello, Shae!” Anakin said. “Hey, Omi!”

“Is Mirta here yet?” Omi asked Anakin.

“No, their ship was delayed,” he said. “They’re arriving this afternoon.”

“Those go to the kitchen,” Aunt Shae said, pointing out the boxes in the bed of the speeder. “And the stuff behind it is the rented lighting rig for the orchard.”

“We’ll put the lighting gear over there,” Jacen gestured toward a section of the yard behind the house. “Anakin will figure out how to program the lanterns.”

Anakin passed Omi one of the boxes before taking a larger box for himself and heading toward the kitchen. Omi had just placed his box down on a kitchen counter when sticky little hand smacked his side.

“O! O!” Allana shouted, her red curls bouncing as she tilted her head back to look up at him.

“Uncle Jacen!” Omi shouted for Allana’s father.

“I’ve got her!” Anakin’s wife Tahiri swooped in and scooped up Allana.

“O!” Allana insisted, pointed at Omi.

“That’s right, that’s Omi,” Tahiri cooed. “Let’s go find your dad.”

“Omi!” Aunt Shae called from the other end of the kitchen. “Come help me unpack the boxes.”

People drifted in and out of the kitchen as Omi helped Aunt Shae unpack the supplies that Aunt Nadyia would be using for the wedding feast. Ben wandered through, greeting Omi and Shae and stealing a risshi cake from the sideboard before he ducked out again. In a corner, Uncle Luke was patiently showing Tenel Ka how to prep long sheets of pastry dough. Through the windows of the kitchen, he could see various guests helping to set up tables and chairs in the Orchard behind the house.

When they’d finished unpacking the boxes, Shae gave him a pile of gnox tubers peel.  He kept one ear open as he chopped the tubers until he heared Aunt Leia call down the walkway: “Jaina and Mirta are here!”

Uncle Luke carefully put down the sheet of dough and washed his hands before he went out the kitchen door and headed down the walkway toward the front of the house. As soon as Uncle Luke left, Omi jumped up and abandoned the tubers.

“Omi, hang on—”

He pretended he hadn’t heard Aunt Shae, darting out the back door and running along the porch that ran along the outside of the house. A large rented landspeeder was pulling up, and Aunt Leia, Uncle Han, Aunt Mara were already waiting for it, Uncle Luke joining them. Aunt Leia tucked her hand into the crook of Uncle Han’s arm and they made their way down the steps to meet the speeder. As the speeder came to a stop, he could see Jaina at the steering yoke, and he watched from the porch as Jaina jumped out and embraced her parents.

“Stay on the porch, Omi,” Aunt Mara said as she and Uncle Luke left the porch to join them. Omi wandered over to the far end of the porch as though he never intended to go with them. He grasped a corner post and leaned out over the edge, but from this distance he couldn’t hear what Aunt Leia and Jaina were saying.

A woman with short, dark curly hair stepped out of the speeder and then turned to help an elderly man out of the vehicle. She handed him a walking stick which he leaned heavily on as he pulled himself to his feet, scowling up at the house.

Omi couldn’t see anything special about Mirta by just looking at her. She wasn’t even wearing any Mandalorian armor, though he only had a vague idea what Mandalorian armor even looked like, from the few holodramas he’d seen. But Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara looked ordinary too, and they were _Jedi_ , so he knew that didn’t mean anything.

Her grandfather Boba, the one that Uncle Han didn’t like, looked just looked like any old man. Really, really old, even older than Uncle Han. He had the same coppery brown skin that Omi had, and could almost have passed for one of Omi’s great-uncles. He didn’t look happy.

He couldn’t hear what was being said as Aunt Leia and Uncle Han greeted Mirta and Boba. He could tell that Aunt Leia was doing most of the talking, though he couldn’t see her face. Uncle Han and Boba didn’t seem to say much. He watched Aunt Mara escorted Mirta and Boba toward the house as the rest of the group helped Jaina unload their baggage from the speeder.

He swung around the other side of the post and crept closer to the front door, just close enough to be within hearing distance when the Mandalorians crossed the porch, but it wasn’t enough. At the top of the steps, Boba muttered something to Mirta that Omi couldn’t hear, quietly enough that it didn’t carry.

“Ba’buir,” he heard Mirta sigh in reply.

He caught the warning look in Aunt Mara’s eye, though, and he slunk back around the side of the house and headed back to the kitchens. He wanted to hang around for the rest of the day in case Boba or Mirta did something Mandalorian so that he’d have a story to tell Kiki and Mika, but neither reappeared and after a few hours Aunt Shae collected him for the drive back to town.

\- -

Omi leaned his pedal bike on the side of the Skywalker house and raced up the stairs. It was the day before the wedding, and his mom hadn’t let him leave the house all morning, insisting that he finish his assignments from school first. She had finally relented, allowing him to leave after lunch, and he hurried to make his way back to the Skywalker property. The house would be filling up with Jedi and Mandalorians, and he didn’t want to miss _anything!_

The front porch and foyer were empty, but he could see Miss Winter through an open door that led out of the foyer, deep in conversation with Artoo and General Calrissian, shimmering diagrams hovering in the air between them. He headed through the hall to the door on the far end that led to the garden at the center of the house.

An open-air walkway circled the garden and led to the wings that surrounded the central space. He took a right, choosing the walkway that ran along the guest wing toward the back of the house where the kitchen and dining room were located.

Omi’s aunt Tela worked on the garden once a week, sculpting the trees and ornamental bushes, and keeping the meditation circles and the paths that wound through the garden swept and tidy. The meditation circles were marked by standing stones or flat stones for sitting, baki trees shading them from the sun.

Mirta and Jaina stood in one of the meditation circles in the center of the garden, but Omi could tell they definitely weren’t meditating. Snatches of their argument drifted through the garden.

“...I’m trying, but—everyone is so tense.”

“So things are awkward. We knew that was going to happen.”

Omi didn’t catch the next bit of the conversation. He moved quietly along the walkway, trying not to draw attention to himself.

“—Wouldn’t have happened if you’d agreed to a Mandalorian wedding. All we’d’ve needed was a witness and a bar...”

“Mirta, we already had that fight—”

“That’s not what I meant—”

A stand of blue haffishan flowers blocked them from sight and the rest of the conversation became too muffled to make out.

He slipped quietly past one of the Jedi he didn’t know, who _was_ using the meditation circle for its intended purpose, and came to the corner where the walkway turned at ninety degrees to run along the back wing of the house. One afternoon, after a rain shower, he’d been running around the corner and had slipped and scraped his knee and cut open his chin. He thought about it every time he turned the corner. He was so focused on not attracting the attention of _anyone_ in the garden that he nearly bumped into Aunt Leia and Aunt Mara, who were standing near the door to the kitchen.

“—For Mirta’s sake,” Aunt Leia was saying. “I honestly don’t want to spend any time with him either.”

Aunt Mara opened her mouth to respond and then closed it again as she spotted Omi, exchanging a look with Aunt Leia. She held out the tray she had in her hands.

“Omi, can you take this tray to Mirta’s grandfather? He’s in the library.”

“Okay.”

He took the tray, loaded with a pitcher of water, a glass, and a couple of risshi cakes on a plate, and headed toward the library.

Omi liked the library at the Skywalker house. It was completely different than the library they had at his school, which was a large room filled with booths for students to study the school’s collection of educational holos. Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara’s library was lined with shelves filled with cases that held old holos he’d never seen before, as well as  _books_ —books of all kinds, from all over the galaxy. There were big thick books in different languages and books that were rolled up as scrolls or were made of long strips of folded flimsyplast, and there were strange antique machines that held holodata that was recorded ages and ages before even Uncle Luke had been born. Omi wondered if there was a book in the library that listed all the powers the Jedi had; he’d never been able to find anything like that on the holonet.

Boba Fett wasn’t watching any of the holos. He sat one of the armchairs that dotted the room, his walking stick leaning against the arm of the chair. He was examining one of Uncle Luke’s books, one of the books that were written in a language that Omi didn’t recognize.

“Aunt Mara said to bring you this,” he said as he put the tray on a low table near Boba Fett’s chair. He tried to get a better look at the book Boba had been reading without being too obvious about it.

Boba nodded at him, glancing at the tray and picking up the glass. He looked over at Omi. “Are your parents one of Jaina’s people?”

Omi shook his head. “I live in town, but my mom lets me hang out here. I don’t have a dad.”

His dad had left before he’d been born and Omi had never met him. He had lots of uncles and aunts that helped his mom out—blood-related, not like he called all adults _Uncle_ or _Aunt_ as a sign of respect—but he didn’t have a dad. His friend Arenya-ki had _three_ dads, which seemed a little unfair.

“Are you a Jedi too, boy?”

“No,” Omi said. “Uncle Luke says I’m not Force-sensitive enough.”

“Good,” Boba grunted.

“I guess,” Omi muttered. “I kinda wanted to go to the Praxeum and learn all the stuff Jedi can do.”

He heard someone come to the library door and glanced back over his shoulder. It was Uncle Luke, who smiled at him.

“Mind if I join you?” Uncle Luke asked, looking at Boba.

Omi shrugged, even though he knew the question wasn’t really directed at him. He looked back at Boba, who shifted in his seat and looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t say no, and Uncle Luke settled into the chair opposite him, his back to the door. Omi slid on a stool nearby.

“How are you settling in, Boba?”

Boba lifted the glass in his hand. “The boy brought me something to drink.”

“Thank you, Omi,” Luke said, giving Omi a smile before turning back to Boba. “Mara and I want to make sure you’re comfortable here. We know that you had to travel a long way to get out here, and we don’t want you to feel out of place.”

The older man’s gaze, which had been fixed on something to the left of Luke’s head, fixed on Uncle Luke, his eyes going hard. “I’m surprised you’d let a Jedi killer into your home.”

“You’re Mirta’s family,” Uncle Luke said, meeting Boba’s gaze calmly. “Which means that you’re now Jaina’s family, and we’d welcome anyone that Jaina considered family.” The corner of Uncle Luke’s mouth twitched. “We’re an unconventional family anyway, as you know.”

“Did Mirta tell you my father was killed by Jedi?”

“I’m sorry,” Uncle Luke said. “Were you there when it happened?”

The old man nodded, once. “I know your people aren’t the same as those Jedi. But there are some things that are impossible to forgive.”

“That’s a terrible thing to carry,” Uncle Luke said. “I can’t imagine how that must have felt.”

Boba shifted in his seat and looked down at his hands. “I promised Mirta’ika I wouldn’t bring up the past,” he said gruffly. It took Omi a second to realize he was talking about Mirta; he said her name differently than everyone else did.

“I think Han made that same promise to Jaina,” Uncle Luke said with a smile. “Some things just need to be said. You haven’t offended me, Boba.”

“You can tell Solo the universe got back at me. My wife—my ex-wife—died of carbonite poisoning. My daughter died a deal gone sour. Everything I did… came to nothing.”

Uncle Luke murmured his condolences again and then said: “Han doesn’t want revenge. I think his hostility has more to do with the fact that he’s having trouble adjusting to the fact that his little girl’s getting married.”

Bobba nodded in the direction of the floor. “Yeah, I think I can understand that.”

Omi fidgeted in the short silence that followed. He kind of wanted to be somewhere else, but he also wanted to hear what they said next. He must have caught Uncle Luke’s eye, because Uncle Luke turned and smiled at him again.

“Just because you aren’t Force-sensitive doesn’t mean you can’t attend the Praxeum,” Uncle Luke said. “You could study history or Jedi lore. There are lots of courses that don’t focus on Force training.” He tilted his head to the side, glancing over his shoulder at the door. “Mara taught a class on information retrieval that was legendary.”

“You mean _infamous,”_ Aunt Mara said.

Omi hadn’t seen her in the doorway before she’d spoken and he saw Boba look over in surprise as well. Aunt Mara crossed the room and leaned against the back of Luke’s chair, hands on his shoulders. He lifted a hand to clasp one of hers.

She greeted Mirta’s grandfather with a tiny bow of her head. “Boba.”

“Jade.”

“Boba and I were talking about the past,” Uncle Luke said.

“Ah,” Aunt Mara said. “The past.” She caught Boba’s eye. “I was at Jabba’s, too, you know,” she said softly. “But I didn’t bother to introduce myself.”

Omi stared at her. Uncle Luke had never said that Aunt Mara had helped rescue Uncle Han too!

“Dancer,” she said. “It was a cover.”

“Huh,” Boba grunted.

“I was a different person back then.”

He nodded. “Mirta’ika told me. Some.”

 _That_ was a story Omi was going to have to ask Uncle Luke about.

“We knew some of the same people,” she said. “Back then.”

“I don’t miss the Empire,” he said.

“Good. Neither do I.”

“You don’t have to prove that to us,” Uncle Luke said. “None of us are the same as we were back then.”

“You weren’t on the barge, then?” Boba asked Aunt Mara.

“Never got that far.” She seemed amused. “I’ve heard stories of how you got out.”

Boba snorted. “Fighting my way out of the sarlacc… that was a thing.” He shook his head.

“You should tell Han about that, actually,” Uncle Luke said. “I think he’d enjoy that story.”

Boba shrugged, looked away again. “Feels like my time has passed.”

“You’re not dead yet, Fett,” Aunt Mara said, her voice gentle.

Uncle Luke looked as though he were about to say something else, but changed his mind. Aunt Mara rubbed her hand across his shoulder.

“This is a nice place you got here,” Boba said. “Quiet. I’ve been staying with Mirta’ika in the city and it’s just too noisy, you know. Things have changed too much; the people, all the droids...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“There you are!” Tahiri’s voice sang out as she appeared in the doorway, Allana still perched on her hip. The toddler was gnawing on a biscuit with the determined expression of a rancor tamer. “Leia’s looking for you two.”

“We’ll be right there,” Uncle Luke said. “Please let us know if you need anything else while you’re here, Boba.”

“Sure,” Boba said, but he said it as though he didn’t believe Uncle Luke. He looked away.

Uncle Luke exchanged a glance with Aunt Mara. He stood, looked back at Boba as though he might say something else, and then turned away. Omi stood too, slipping quietly behind them. He glanced back at Boba one more time as they left the room; the old man was staring into space, lost in memory.

Omi trailed along after Aunt Mare and Uncle Luke as they followed Tahiri down the walkway toward the front of the house. Ahead of him, Aunt Mara slipped her hand into Uncle Luke’s. He could hear Allana babble something to Tahiri as she led them to the large gathering room near the front of the house.

Tahiri leaned into the doorway. “I found them,” she called into the room. She shifted away from the door, allowing Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara to enter, and then she continued on down the walkway, back toward the kitchen, bobbing Allana on her hip.

Ben and Chewbacca were playing a card game by the long window that stretched along the other side of the room, and Uncle Han was reading a datapad in a chair nearby. Aunt Leia stood in the center of the room with a comm in her hand, talking to Jaina and Mirta. She looked over at Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara when they stepped into the room.

“The flowers still haven’t arrived,” Aunt Leia said. “And when I commed they sent a recorded message saying that they ‘couldn’t deliver the requested order to the Skywalker residence.’”

“Ah,” Uncle Luke said. “Um.”

Aunt Leia raised an eyebrow. “Luke?”

“I wondered if he’d hold a grudge.”

Aunt Leia put her hands on her hips. “Luke. _Skywalker.”_ She sounded just like Omi’s mom when she was about to chew Omi out.

“It’s not my fault! There was a misunderstanding!”

Across the room, Ben started laughing. “You have a feud with the local florist, Dad?”

“Well, I mean, I thought we’d settled things, and then Mara—”

“And you couldn’t have mentioned this sooner?” Aunt Leia said.

Chewbacca said something Omi didn’t understand. He wished he could understand Shyriiwook but they didn’t teach it at school, and there weren’t any Wookies in their town.

“We _didn’t!”_ Uncle Luke protested in response to Chewbacca’s comment.

The Wookie huffed with laughter.

“What are we going to do?” Jaina asked.  

“Is there another florist we can contact?” Aunt Leia asked.

“It’s too late!” Jaina said. “The illisi flowers have to be prepared ahead of time so that they bloom at just the right time. We’ve been _over_ this, _mom.”_

“Jaina,” Mirta said quietly. “It’ll be fine. I’ll marry you even if there aren’t any flowers.”

Uncle Han snorted and Ben started laughing again.

Aunt Mara threw up her hands. “I’ll go. I’ll deal with it.”

 _“Thank you,_ Mara,” Aunt Leia said, though she was glaring at Uncle Luke.

 _“How_ are you planning to do that?” Han asked.

“The order will have been sent to the distribution center in Hulltown. The local suppliers can’t stop us if we ride over there and pick up the flowers at the distribution center itself.”

“And you know this sort of detail about flower suppliers _how?”_ Han asked.

“I know a lot of things,” Aunt Mara said. “Han, you’re with me.”

“Why do I have to go?” Uncle Han asked, though he dropped his datapad on the side table and stood.

Aunt Mara rolled her eyes and turned to Mirta. “Mirta, why don’t you come with us too?”

Mirta looked over at Jaina, who shrugged, still looking angry. “Alright…”

“Can I come?” Omi asked.

“‘Course you can, kiddo,” Uncle Han said, though he looked at Aunt Mara and she nodded.

“Are we going to take a racing speeder?” Omi asked.

“We’re not taking a racing speeder,” Aunt Mara said.

She picked an open-top speeder with room for two in the font and a wide seat in the back, with a flat bed that jutted from the back like a smaller version of the bed on Aunt Shane’s speeder truck. Omi supposed it made sense to pick a speeder with room to carry the boxes of flowers, but it wasn’t as fun.

“You want to tell me what sort of feud you and Luke’ve got going on with the florist?” Uncle Han asked.

“I would not,” Aunt Mara said as she slid into the driver’s seat.

Uncle Han took the front seat beside her, leaving the back seats for Mirta and Omi.

“Thank you,” Mirta said to Aunt Mara as she took the seat beside Omi. “I really needed a break.”

“I know,” Aunt Mara said as she started the engine and pulled the speeder around the house. “I recognized the look.”

“Should I—should I have left Jaina behind?”

“Jaina’ll be fine,” Uncle Han said. “She and her mother will have a big fight and then they’ll get it out of their systems. Sometimes you just have to get out of Jaina’s way.”

“It isn’t really about the flowers…”

“We know,” Uncle Han and Aunt Mara said at the same time.

“There’s always something that doesn’t go according to plan during a wedding,” Aunt Mara said. “Sometimes more than one thing.”

Uncle Han snorted.

Omi saw Aunt Mara’s head turn in Uncle Han’s direction, but he couldn’t see her expression from the back seat.

“Don’t you lecture me,” Uncle Han said.

“I wasn’t going to,” Aunt Mara said.

Omi waved at El-One as they sped past the security droid, its photoreceptors flashed blue at him in return. The wind rushed through the kara grass in front of them like a wave across the ocean.

“I’m sorry about grandfather,” Mirta said.

Omi turned to look at her and he saw Han turn his head out of the corner of his eye. Mirta looked out across the landscape, chewing her lip before she continued.

“I know he hasn’t been pleasant. But he’s the only family I have left, so—I’m sorry about him.”

“Don’t be, Mirta, he’s your family,” Aunt Mara said. “And he’s been fine. Omi and I had a talk with him, didn’t we Omi?”

Mirta looked at him, surprised.

“He seemed okay,” Omi shrugged. “He doesn’t really look like a bounty hunter.”

Uncle Han shook his head. “It was a long time ago, kiddo.”

It was harder to talk as the vehicle picked up speed, the wind whipping against Omi’s face as they sped over the fields the separated the Skywalker property from the town. Aunt Mara slowed the speeder as they reached the outlying neighborhoods, the buildings and people sliding by as they passed through the small town where Omi lived. At first, people on the street waved as the speeder went by, recognizing the vehicle, but as the buildings became larger and closer together Omi spotted fewer faces he recognized as they traveled into Hulltown proper.

Aunt Mara pulled the speeder up in front of a squat green cylindrical building. Inside the front doors there was an open waiting area with a row of counters, but only two of them were occupied at that hour of the afternoon, and one of the receptionists, a blue Twi’lek, was already busy with an elderly Bith. They all followed Aunt Mara as she approached the unattended receptionist. Uncle Han leaned up against the counter, a lazy smirk on his face.

“How may help you, respected citizens?” A middle-aged Mirialan woman with a stern expression sat behind the counter.

“We’re here to inquire after a crate of flowers that was supposed to be shipped to the West-Hulltown florists yesterday,” Aunt Mara said. “The purchaser’s account number is 6887221, under the name Jade.”

“One moment, please.” The receptionist’s fingers flew across the panel on her desk. “Ah, here it is,” she said, and her brow furrowed at the information spooling across the screen at her station. “I see. Your shipment has been impounded.”

 _“Impounded?”_ Han asked.

“Why has it been impounded?” Aunt Mara asked.

“It says the order was flagged when a scan registered a device that wasn’t listed on the import forms, in violation of regulation #4CC.” At Aunt Mara and Uncle Han’s blank expressions, she activated the holoprojector, and the forms appeared in the air between them. “Let me cross-reference that with your order registration—Oh, dear. I see. District Councilor Basai has frozen your account.”

“District Councilor Basai,” Aunt Mara said, her voice flat.

Uncle Han’s eyebrows shot up and he looked as though he’d won first prize at the Hulltown fair. “Did you piss off a government official, Mara?”

Aunt Mara didn’t take her eyes off the receptionist, but she said to Uncle Han: “Why do you automatically assume it was me and not Luke?”

“You.” He paused to point a finger at her. “Didn’t answer the question.”

“Does it say why the account was frozen?” Aunt Mara asked the receptionist.

The receptionist pursed her lips. “I have no access to that information.”

“What can I do to lift the freeze?”

“There’s an appeal process,” the receptionist said primly.

“An appeal process. How long will it take?”

“First, you have to fill out the appropriate forms,” she said. Forms shimmered in the air above her station, one after the other until they formed a dense wall of glowing lines.

“You _really_ pissed him off!” Uncle Han said.

“Don’t start with me,” Mara said. “You have no idea how petty and _arrogant_ these small-planet government officials can be.” The receptionist gave Aunt Mara a sour look. “Oh, I’m _sorry,_ is District Councilor Basai a friend of yours?” She didn’t sorry at _all._

Uncle Han shook his head. “See, this is what happens when you and Luke retire someplace out in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do, you end up taking in local kids and going to war with the locals.”

“Thank you for your time,” Aunt Mara said to the receptionist and turned on her heel and strode out of the office waiting room. Uncle Han, still leaning against the counter, stared after her for a minute, and then straightened and headed for the door after her, waving an arm at Omi and Mirta to follow them.

“Well, _that_ went well,” Uncle Han said.

“We still need the flowers,” Mirta said.

Omi looked at Aunt Mara, who tapped her mouth, her eyes narrow and gaze distant. “Then we’ll go get them ourselves,” she said.

“How?” Mirta asked. Behind her, Omi could see Uncle Han’s face slide into a lopsided grin.

Aunt Mara opened the door to the speeder. “I know the warehouses where they take impounded goods. We’ll break in and take the shipment home.”

 _“Now_ you’re talking,” Uncle Han said, claiming the front passenger’s seat again.

“I’m not going to let one of Basai’s petty grudges spoil Jaina’s wedding day,” Aunt Mara said as she started the speeder.

The buildings that moved past the speeder began to thin out again as they drove away from city center, shops and office buildings replaced by large warehouses. There was a sameness to each street they turned down, and Omi couldn’t tell where they were headed until Aunt Mara pulled the speeder to a stop and nodded toward a warehouse down the block.

“That’s where they store impounded goods,” she said. There was a wide yard in front of the warehouse that would allow large speeder trucks to load up goods from the building and a human security guard in a booth near the front doors.

“Two security guards,” Uncle Han said.

“Where’s the other one?” Aunt Mara asked.

“Down the side alley,” Uncle Han said. “Secondary entrance.”

“How are we going to get past the security guards?” Omi asked.

“Hang on, we’re working on it,” Uncle Han said, rubbing his chin as he watched the building.

“In _The Final Jedi Prince,_ they turn themselves invisible and sneak into the fortress without anybody seeing them.” He might not have seen as many Mandalorian holo as Kiki and Mika, but he’d seen _lots_ of Jedi holos. Uncle Luke liked to watch them with him.

Beside him, Mirta nodded. “In _The Lost Jedi Chronicles of Coronet City_ they do that too.” Uncle Han glanced over at her, his eyebrows raised, and she looked embarrassed.

Aunt Mara sighed. “That’s not how the Force works.”

“What are we going to do, then?” Omi asked.

“I’ll take care of it,” Uncle Han said, opening the door of the speeder and stepping out onto the street. “Just wait here.”

“And what exactly are you going to do, Solo?” Aunt Mara drawled.

“Trust me,” Uncle Han said. He flashed them a lopsided smile.

They watched as Uncle Han walked up to the guard and began talking to him, though they much too far away to hear what was being said. After a few minutes Uncle Han pulled something out of his pocket to show the guard. Mirta leaned forward, as though the few inches she gained would help her understand what Uncle Han was doing. Aunt Mara, on the other hand, slouched back in her seat, a hand raised to shade the sun from her eyes, looking as though she were idly watching a town parade.

Uncle Han was still talking, his hands gesturing as he spoke. The guard reached for his comm and a few minutes later the second guard came around the front and joined the conversation, examining whatever it was that Han had given the first guard. Though it was hard to tell from a distance, they didn’t look alarmed. Han put his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

The conversation continued, and Omi tried to figure out what Uncle Han was saying from the extravagant hand gestures he was making, but he just couldn’t tell what was going on. When he looked back at Mirta, she was chewing her lip again and looked worried. Aunt Mara didn’t. She was almost smiling.

One of the guards walked off and returned driving a small speeder around the corner of the building. The second guard climbed in and they drove away, Uncle Han waving at them as they sped off. He strolled across the street and down the block to where they were parked, grinning all over his face.

“Nicely done,” Aunt Mara called.

“Works every time,” he said as soon as he got within hearing range.

“What did you do?” Omi asked.

“Trade secret,” Uncle Han said.

“That’s not fair!”

“They didn’t suspect anything?” Mirta’s brow was furrowed as she looked over at Uncle Han and then back at Aunt Mara.

“What, suspect a harmless old man like me?” He placed his hands on his chest eyebrows raising and eyes wide. “A dutiful citizen, simply making conversation with a pair of hard-working guards?”

“Alright, hero,” Mara said dryly. “Let’s go break in. Mirta, you and Omi go around to the side door; we’ll work on the front and meet you inside. The fewer people seen loitering around the front door, the better.”

When he and Mirta reach the side door, Mirta dug cylindrical tool out of her pocket and aimed it at the lock. After a few beeps and an odd clicking noise, the side door hissed open. Behind the door, rows of crates and boxes were lined up, some stacked taller than a Wookie. In front of every row, a plate was set into the duracrete, marked by a softly glowing set of numbers. As they walked toward the front of the warehouse, Omi could see impounded speeders, furniture, and other odds and ends that had been collected and stacked into the rows alongside the impounded shipping crates.

Uncle Han and Aunt Mara were standing just inside the front door, Aunt Mara working a panel by the door. “Look for number 6887221,” she said. “It should light up now.”

They headed back into the maze of boxes, scanning each numbered plate. The numbers were all a blue-tinged white and didn’t appear in any sort of order that Omi could figure out. The crate they were looking for wasn’t in the first two rows. Omi wondered how long this was going to take; they still had to sneak the crate out and drive back to the house.

“Here it is,” Mirta called. The toe of her boot scuffed the edge of a plate in the third row, the number 6887221 glowing green and bright. The top of the crate came up to Mirta’s chest and he could barely touch the sides if he stood in the front and stretched his arms out.

“Whoa,” Omi said. “There must be a _lot_ of flowers in there.”

“It’s not just the flowers,” Aunt Mara said. “The crate has a built-in cryogenic capsule system for keeping the flowers fresh.” She bent to examine a panel on the side of the crate. “It’s a good one, too. Top of the line.”

“And Jaina asked for a _lot_ of flowers,” Mirta said.

“Illisi flowers,” Uncle Han said, nodding. “They bloom in the spring on Corellia. They’re wedding flowers.”

“Also flowers for the house, for the orchard, and for guests,” Mara said. “Which we were going to set up yesterday when the shipment was _supposed_ to arrive.” She sighed. “It’s going to be a late night. I’ll unlock the hovercontrols and then we can get it out of here and loaded into the speeder.”

“I’ve got an isospanner,” Mirta said, “If you need to deactivate a lock.” She held up the cylindrical tool Omi had seen her use earlier on the door.

“That’s a new model,” Uncle Han said, looking impressed.

“I don’t think we’ll need it,” Aunt Mara said. “It doesn’t appear to be locked in place.”

She pressed one of the buttons on the panel and crate’s built-in repulsorlift system activated and the crate lifted up and hovered not far off the ground. She began to press another sequence of buttons on the crate as she said, “As soon as we—”

“MADAME JADE,” an amplified voice boomed from outside. Everyone jumped, and the adults all reached for their belts, hands grasping for weapons that weren’t there.

“—AND….ACCOMPLICE. VACATE THE BUILDING WITH YOUR HANDS UP!”

 _Accomplice?_ Omi saw Aunt Mara mouth the word at Uncle Han.  

“WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, MADAME JADE,” the voice continued. “A SECURITY DROID RECORDED THE PRESENCE OF YOU AND YOUR ACCOMPLICE. DON’T MAKE US COME IN THERE TO GET YOU.”

Uncle Han threw a look a Mirta. “Hey!” Omi said as Mirta grabbed his arm and began pulling him away from Uncle Han and Aunt Mara. Mirta clapped a hand over his mouth, glaring at him, and yanked at his arm again.

“DO WE HAVE TO COUNT DOWN, MADAME JADE?”

He twisted back in time to see Uncle Han toss a comlink in toward them, which Mirta snatched out of the air. He tried to dig in his heels, but Mirta was _strong_. Aunt Mara and Uncle Han headed toward the door, their hands raised over their heads. Mirta hadn’t let go of his arm, or stopped trying to drag him deeper into the warehouse.

 _Omi, run._ He heard Aunt Mara’s voice, but it was _inside_ his head.

“Aunt Mara?” he whispered. “What’s going on?”

 _Hide_. _Quietly._

He stumbled after Mirta, who shoved him in front of her through a narrow gap between a row of crates. He squeezed through the gap, Mirta behind him, and they both wedged themselves behind a large stack of boxes. Anyone searching for them would have to crawl behind the boxes to even see them.

“Aunt Mara was talking to me!” Omi hissed. “Inside my head!”

Mirta nodded. “Jaina does that too, sometimes.” Her cheeks went red.  

She looked down at the comm that Uncle Han had thrown her before she’d dragged Omi off and thumbed a switch on the device, a quiet electronic hum signaling that the comm was active.

“—do you think this was a trap?” Uncle Han’s voice came through the comm, and Omi realized that Uncle Han had programmed the comm he’d given Mirta as a two-way transmitter to another device he still had with him.

“I struggle to imagine anyone in this town had enough foresight to lay a trap for us,” Aunt Mara said, quietly enough that Omi struggled to hear her. “I think _someone_ in the customs office tattled.”

“THAT’S RIGHT, COME OUT, NICE AND EASY.”

“Soldar,” they heard Aunt Mara sigh. “You can put down the amplifier. We can _all_ hear you.”

“IT’S _CAPTAIN_ SOLDAR, MADAME JADE.”

“You’re fighting with _him_ too?” Uncle Han asked. _“How_ long have you lived here? Who else have you pissed off?”

“CUT THE CHATTER—”

“Captain Soldar, huh?” Uncle Han said. “Lemme introduce myself, I’m _General_ Organa-Solo—”

“That’s not going to work, Han,” they heard Aunt Mara say.

“Who’s Soldar?” Mirta whispered.

“The Chief of Police,” Omi told her. He only knew that because he’d overheard Aunt Mara talking about him once. He missed what Uncle Han said next.

“You don’t think I’ve thought of that?” Aunt Mara said. “I told you about these people, they have delusions of grandeur and too much time on their hands—”

“BREAKING AND ENTERING, MADAME JADE. YOU CAN’T GET AWAY WITH IT THIS TIME! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?”

 _“This_ time?” they heard Uncle Han say.

“We paid for the shipment, Soldar,” Aunt Mara said. “District Councilor Basai is holding our goods because he hasn’t gotten over that time—”

“STOP! THAT’S ENOUGH COMMENTARY, MADAME JADE. SEARCH THEM FOR ANY STOLEN MERCHANDISE.”

“I’m too old for this,” Uncle Han said. There was a pause, as some muffled debate went on that they couldn’t hear through the comlink.

“Alright, alright,” Uncle Han said. “We’re coming along peacefully. Hey—” The comlink went dead.

Mirta muttered a word that Omi had never heard before but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t a word his mother would allow him to say.

 _Call Luke._ He jerked as he heard Aunt Mara’s voice in his head again.

 _“Astral,”_ he muttered.

“What?” Mirta asked.

“We have to call Uncle Luke,” he told her. “Aunt Mara told me. _In my head.”_

“Do you know the code for the Skywalker residence?”

“Yeah, I’ve got Uncle Luke’s private code, too. Artoo will make sure it goes straight to him.”

Mirta gave him the comm, he keyed in Uncle Luke’s private number, and they waited for the other end of to pick up. When Luke’s voice came through the comm, Mirta snatched it out of Omi’s hand.

“Hey!” he said.

“Omi, is everything alright?” Uncle Luke came through the comm.

“We’re alright,” Mirta said. “But we ran into some—trouble—” She faltered. “Um. We’re at the warehouse where they store confiscated shipments. Han and Mara have been arrested, I think.”

“They were arrested?” There was a pause. “Was the man who arrested them a police captain named Soldar?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

The comm hissed as Luke sighed. “He’ll have them placed in the Hulltown holding cells—”

“Let him spend the night,” another voice said.

 _“Leia,”_ Luke said to the speaker.

Aunt Leia said something else that wasn’t picked up by the comm and they heard Luke sigh, and then he said to them, “Omi, did Mara give you a code word or anything like that?”

Omi frowned. “No, she just told me to call you. She said it _inside my head.”_ He still hadn’t gotten over that. It was so _wicked._

“Alright, Omi, Mirta, hold tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“What do we do now?” Omi asked as Mirta deactivated the comm.

“We’re getting out of here,” she said.

“But what about the flowers?”

"Haar'chak,” Mirta muttered. “Okay, let’s get the flowers.”

They wove back through the maze of boxes and shipping crates. The crate was still hovering in place where they’d left it, the numbers on the label plate in front of it still glowing a brilliant green.

“Stop!” Mirta said as Omi moved toward it. “Don’t touch it. I think an alarm was rigged to the crate and went off when we tried to move it.”

“You mean it _was_ a trap?” _A trap!_ Like in a holodrama!

“I’m not sure, but I want to check before we doing anything else.”

Mirta studied the crate, walking around it without touching it, chewing her lip as she studied the control panel before she crouched down and looked underneath, and then tried to squeeze into the space between the crates and floor, but she didn’t fit.

“I can do that,” Omi said. He got down on the floor and slid under the hovering crate.

“Look for anything that looks like it wasn’t originally part of the crate,” Mira told him. “Anything that might have been attached to the crate by someone else.”

Omi rolled over she that he could look up at the underside of the crate. He swept his hands across the metal surface of the crate until his fingers caught on a bit of metal that stuck out from the otherwise smooth surface. He shifted around until he could see the odd hexagon-shaped protrusion.

“I think I found something,” he said. “It’s attached to the bottom of the crate.” He picked at the hexagonal lump that stuck out from the flat surface but it was sealed tight.

He could hear Mirta shiting around. “Here,” she said, reaching under the crate to pass him the isospanner. “Hold that up against it and press the red button. It should deactivate and detach.” The isospanner made a beeping sound when he pressed the button and the small metal hexagon fell into his hand. He wiggled out from under the crate and handed Mirta the hexagon.

She turned it over in her hand, her eyes widening. “This isn’t a tripwire device,” she said. “It’s a spy droid.”

“Really?” A spy droid! _Just_ like in a holodrama!

Mirta nodded. “It’s a new model: it has top of the line recording instruments on the inside, but look how small it is.”

“What does it do?”

“It’s programmed to hide until it’s ready to spy, and then it finds a spot where it can record whatever intel it was programmed to find, and then it hides again until it can be retrieved.”  

She flipped it over in her fingers, pointed the isospanner at the droid and then placed it on the ground. The tiny droid twitched and then tried to scuttle under the crate again. Mirta’s boot came down and smashed the droid into the ferrocrete.

“What’d you do that for?” Omi asked looking up at her in surprise.

She didn’t look like she wanted to tell him at first, but then she said, “The Media’s used those spy droids before to get holos of us—of Jaina and me. On dates. They probably sent them out here to get holos of the wedding.”

They found four more spy droids, one wedged against the outside corner of the crate and two that had smuggled in beside the boxes of flowers inside. Mirta destroyed every one. Omi cheered when they found the last one, but Mirta didn’t even smile. She ground pieces of the droid under her heavy boot as she had done with the others.

They repacked the boxes of flowers into the crate again and then Mirta unlocked the hoverlift controls which allowed them to push the floating crate out of its spot in the row and toward the side entrance of the warehouse. There was now a guard droid posted at the front of the building, and the side entrance had been re-locked but was unguarded.

“Now we wait,” Mirta said.

Waiting was  _really_ boring. He tried to ask Mirta about Mandalore, but the answers she gave were short and not very interesting.

“What about the Blood Trials?” he asked. “Did you have to fight in a Blood Trial?”

She gave him a blank look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

When she refused to answer any more questions, he climbed on top of the crate and twisted a piece of wire he’d found into different shapes as they waited for Uncle Luke. Mirta leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, unmoving. Omi wasn’t even sure she even blinked.

The comm crackled. “I’m at the side entrance,” Uncle Luke said. “I’ve disabled the locks.”

Mirta opened the side door, and there was Uncle Luke, looking more amused than angry.

“And you got the flowers, too,” Uncle Luke said. “We’ll gravclamp them to the back of the speeder before we pick up Han and Mara.”

He’d brought one of the larger rented speeders; not one of the sleek flashy ones that Aunt Shae liked, and he and Mirta set about securing the crate to the back of the speeder while Omi waited in the vehicle.

“We’ll pick up our speeder after the wedding,” Uncle Luke was telling Mirta as they climbed into their seats, Mirta in the front alongside Uncle Luke. “Sitting for a few days in this neighborhood won’t hurt it.”

“Can you get Aunt Mara and Uncle Han out of jail?” Omi asked.

“They won’t be in jail yet,” Uncle Luke said as he started the speeder and pulled away from the warehouse. “There’s holding room at the Justice Center. I’m sure that’s where they’ve been taken.”

“And it won’t be a problem to get them released?” Mirat asked. “What about Captain Soldar?”

“We have friends, too,” Uncle Luke said. “I called in a few favors.”

Omi had seen the Justice Center before, but he’d never been inside. Uncle Luke seemed to know exactly where to go, leading them past the imposing grey columns that lined the entrance, down a long side hall that had been painted a dull brown, and through one of the doors along the hall.

Behind that door, there was another official-looking counter like the one at the distribution center, and another Mirialan seated behind it. The frown on his face smoothed out as soon as saw Uncle Luke and he checked his monitor, saying “Ah, Master Skywalker! We were expecting you. I’ve already expedited the paperwork.”

“Thank you,” Uncle Luke said as he signed the shimmering holo form that hovered above the counter. “How are things, Lothan?”

“Oh, it’s been quiet today, Master Skywalker, I can’t complain. Madame Jade was very amenable once Captain Soldar left, though her companion was a fair bit sarcastic about the entire process, I must say, Sir.”

“Sounds like Han,” Uncle Luke said.

The Mirialan receptionist waved them toward a door to the left of his desk. A spindly guard droid stood beside the door but it merely blinked its photoreceptors as the door slid opened, paying no further attention to any of the humans. Through the open door, Omi could see and Aunt Mara and Uncle Han lounging on a low bench that ran the length of the narrow room.  

“Your pickup service has arrived,” Uncle Luke called.

“About _time,_ Skywalker,” Aunt Mara said, the side of her mouth tipped up in a grin.

“My hero,” Uncle Han said, rising slowly to his feet. “Though the accommodations weren’t bad, I’ll say that for this place.”

They sauntered through the door as Uncle Luke finished up with the forms. The guard droid blinked again, but let them pass.

“I do hope we don’t see you again here, Madame Jade,” the receptionist said.

“That’s up to Captain Soldar,” Aunt Mara said. “If he—”

“I promise we’ll put in our best effort, Lothan,” Uncle Luke said firmly, guiding Aunt Mara away from the counter and out the door.  

“His rap sheet would be longer than mine,” Aunt Mara said to Uncle Han, “If he didn’t always manage to sweet talk his way out of it.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Uncle Han said.

Outside, and out of view of the Justice Center, Mirta told Aunt Mara and Uncle Han what had happened since they’d been taken into custody. “We found spy droids in the crate,” Mirta held out the remains of one of the droids.

Aunt Mara examined the pieces, lifting up a tiny shattered photoreceptor. “Ah,” she said. “I get it now.”

“What’s that?” Uncle Han asked.

“Back at the customs office, we were told that the shipment was flagged because there were unauthorized devices inside, but there shouldn’t have been anything inside the crate that wasn’t on the manifest. The crate didn’t pass inspection because the scanners were picking up the spy droids. When Customs confiscated the shipment, they actually prevented the droids from infiltrating our property.”

“Like in a holodrama!” Omi said.

Aunt Mara grinned at him. “Just like in a holodrama.” The photoreceptor rose out of her hand and spun around in the air. She shot Uncle Luke a look, and he winked at her.

“Astral,” Omi said. The photoreceptor drifted away from Aunt Mara and Uncle Luke plucked it out of the air and held it up to the light.

“El-One and El-Two might have picked it up in a scan when the crate was brought to the house, but maybe not,” Luke said. The broken photoreceptor jumped out of his hand and flew back into Mara’s palm.

“We’ll analyze it after the wedding,” she said. “And find out who tried to sneak in spy droids in the flowers.”

“I suppose that makes getting arrested worth it,” Uncle Han said. He had his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed as if he weren’t certain about that.

“That’s the spirit,” Uncle Luke said.

“Come on,” Aunt Mara said. “Let’s go home. We have a lot of flowers to deliver.”

\- -

It was dark by the time they made it back to the Skywalker house. The light spilling out through the large windows of the house illuminated a lone figure standing on the porch, bent over his cane. As they grew closer, Jaina stepped out of the house and crossed the porch, touching Boba’s arm briefly before coming down the steps to meet them.

Mirta threw open the door of the speeder and was climbing out of the vehicle before Uncle Luke had even brought the speeder to a complete stop. She stumbled, thrown off by the movement of the speeder, and Jaina steadied her.

“Is Ba’buir—?” Mirta asked.

“He’s fine,” Jaina said. “He was just worried about you.” Jaina slid her arm around Mirta, who leaned in for a kiss.

Omi looked away from the couple, back toward the porch. Mirta’s grandfather didn’t smile or look at all happy. He gave Mirta and Jaina a long look, his face expressionless, and then turned back into the house.

“I’d better go speak him,” Mirta said. “Ni'll haa'taylir gar, sikar’ta.”

“I’ll find you when you’re done,” Jaina said.

Uncle Han came over and threw an arm around her shoulder. They watched as Mirta disappeared into the house after Boba.

“She’s very protective of him,” Jaina said. She sighed and said quietly under her breath, “I’m not sure he deserves it.”

“You picked a good one, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I’ll even try and be nice to her grandfather tomorrow.” Uncle Han winked at Omi over Jaina’s head.

“You’d better, Dad.”

They helped Aunt Mara and Uncle Luke detach the crate of flowers from the back of the speeder and pushed the floating crate toward the house.

“Time to go home, Omi,” Uncle Luke said, getting back into the speeder.

“Can I come back for the wedding?” Omi slid into the front seat this time.

“If Shae and Nadiya are willing to bring you when they come over.”

“Okay,” Omi sighed. They’d probably put him to work, too.

“I’ll put in a good word for you,” Uncle Luke said with a smile.

\- -

There was a basket of candies by the front door, filled with treats that guests had brought from all over the galaxy, wrapped in bright colors and stamped with alien labels. Omi picked a yellow loli flecked with some sort of red seasoning and stepped out onto the front porch.

At the far end of the porch, where it began to turn around the side of the house, Boba Fett sat, wrapped in a large blanket against the night chill. He was talking quietly to Uncle Luke. On the other side of the porch, gathered around a table covered with alcoholic drinks, a much more boisterous group of grown-ups were talking and laughing.

Omi crossed the porch and sat down on the steps, midway between the two groups. He unwrapped the yellow loli and stuck it in his mouth, the sweet-tart taste exploding on his tongue. He rolled the candy around his mouth, the white stick on one end bobbing in the air as he crossed his arms on his knees and looked out across the moon-washed landscape. In the distance, he could make out a group of Jaina’s friends, but he couldn’t tell what they were doing.

Someone touched his shoulder. “There’s a call for you,” Aunt Mara said, handing him a holoprojector and returning to her seat at the table on the other side of the porch.

Omi took the loli out of his mouth and pressed the projector button, and Kiki and Miki’s faces appeared, hovering above the comm in his hand.

“Did you see the wedding?” Kiki asked.

“Uh-huh,” Omi said, trying to hold back a yawn.

“Did Mirta wear her vibrosword?” Mika asked. “Sabina wore her mother’s vibrosword in _The Truest Star._ ”

“All Mandalorian princesses wear vibroswords at their weddings,” Kiki said.

“She didn’t wear a vibrosword,” Omi said. “She just wore a dress.”

“What did the dress look like?” Mika asked.

“It was gold,” he told the twins. The dress had shone in the late afternoon light, giving the white flowers in Mirta’s hair a golden glow.

“Did Jaina wear a gold dress too?”

“No, Jaina’s was sort of yellow and pink.” The flowers in Jaina’s hair were light blue and wove in and out of the elaborate braids looped around her head.

“It was her grandmother’s dress,” Uncle Luke said. He sat down beside Omi on the steps, grunting a little as he lowered himself down.

“The queen from Naboo?” Mika asked.

“Yes,” Luke laughed. “The queen from Naboo.”

Mika gasped in delight, clapping her hands together. Kiki still looked disappointed that no one had worn a vibrosword to the wedding.

“Jaina wore her grandmother’s dress from Naboo and wore her hair in the braids an Alderaanian princess would wear on her wedding day.”

Mika oohed, but Kiki said, “but she isn’t really a princess, is she? She’s an X-Wing commander.”

“No, she isn’t a princess, but she wanted to wear the things that would honor her family roots,” Uncle Luke said.

“And what about Mirta?” Kiki asked. “What about her family?”

“She wore her grandmother’s necklace, with a heart-of-fire gemstone from her grandmother’s home planet.”

This time Kiki looked impressed as well. “Did they do the ritual of the broken swords?” she asked.

Luke laughed. “No, they didn’t.”

Everyone had gathered in the field in front of the house, leaving an open circle in the middle of the gathered friends and family. Mirta and Jaina had entered the circle at opposite ends and met in the middle. Then Uncle Luke stepped into the open circle, wearing his Jedi robes, and led them through the wedding ceremony. The ceremony involved a lot of grown-ups making speeches and it got kind of boring for a while. Aunt Leia presented the brides with the illisi flowers, which burst into bloom when Jaina and Mirta touched them, and _that_ was neat. Everyone had oohed and awwed and Mirta looked like she was going to cry, but the way adults looked when they were crying in a happy way.

At one point Allana escaped from her mother and toddled into the circle; she spent the rest of the ceremony at Jaina’s side, clinging to her voluminous dress. Then Uncle Luke said “may the Force be with you,” and the ceremonies were over.

Afterwards, there was a party in the orchard at the back of the house.That had been less fun at first, because Aunt Shae had grabbed him and made him help out with carrying the food back and forth from the kitchens to the tables spread out through the trees. Mirta and Jaina had changed out of their dresses and into elegant slacks, and Uncle Luke had shed a few layers. As the sun had set, the lanterns flickered on, held in the air between the branches of the trees by way of a repulsorlift system. Aunt Nadyia made sure to save him a plate, heaped with all his favorites, and she had insisted to Aunt Shae that he didn’t need to help with the cleaning up.

Uncle Luke promised Kiki and Mika that he would show them holos of the wedding and signed off. There was a cracking sound and the sky lit up as a firework burst across the dark, streamers of light blooming and then fading in the night. So  _that_ was what Jaina’s friends were up to.

Guests who were still lingering in the orchard gradually gathered on and around the front porch to watch the fireworks display. Aunt Mara came over and sat beside Uncle Luke, passing him a steaming cup of what smelled like hot chocolate. Uncle Luke put his arm around her as she leaned into his side.

“What did you think of the wedding, Omi?” Uncle Luke asked.

“It was nice,” Omi mumbled around the loli. He took the candy out of his mouth. “It was better than my Aunt Tela’s wedding.”

The sky flashed red and purple as a cluster of sunburst fireworks went off. He _had_ hoped that it would be more exciting, more like the Mandalorian weddings in holodramas that Mika and Kiki had described.

“Mirta and Boba aren’t like the Mandalorians in the holodramas,” he said, glancing over to where Boba sat.

Uncle Luke laughed softly. “No, they aren’t.”

“The Jedi holos aren’t accurate either, so…” Omi shrugged. He twirled the loli stick in his hand. Above them a shower of yellow sparks raced across the sky.

Aunt Mara had said that Jedi couldn’t turn invisible like in the holos, but then she’d used telepathy, _just_ like in a holodrama. She’d spoken to _him,_ and for a moment it was just like being one of the Jedi in _The Cosmic Jedi Adventures._ He looked over at Aunt Mara and she turned her head and gave him a slow wink.

“There are are some newer holos that get things right,” Uncle Luke said. “I’ll show you sometime. And the Jedi—the Force isn’t just magic powers, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Omi said.

Uncle Luke had explained it to him before. They way the Uncle Luke described it, the Force was a way of knowing— _feeling_ —how everything in the galaxy fit together. He thought that maybe that feeling was like the warm feeling you got at the end of a really good story, when all the pieces fell into place, the lovers found each other, and good guys won.

“I still like it when you make stuff fly,” he said.

Uncle Luke laughed as the sky lit up again. “Me too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> title from "The Boy in the Bubble" by Paul Simon
> 
>  
> 
> **Mando'a glossary**
> 
> Ba’buir - grandfather  
> Haar'chak - damn it  
> -'ika - diminutive suffix, as in "Little Mirta"  
> Ni'll haa'taylir gar, sikar’ta - I'll see you later, sweetheart


End file.
